


Like the Tale of a Fish

by SenoraKitty



Series: Like the Tale of a Fish [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, First Meetings, Gen, Merman John, Pirate Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-03 22:54:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2891096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SenoraKitty/pseuds/SenoraKitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On his way to pick up provisions to celebrate crossing the equator, with his crew, Sherlock comes across another treasure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like the Tale of a Fish

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Yakimbee (yakimbee)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yakimbee/gifts).



> This work was inspired by a secret santa event over on tumblr. I drew a picture for the user, yakimbee, which lead to me writing this accompanying story. Image in the end notes.

He stood frozen on the rock peering at the fish as its blue eyes stared back at him. He had heard the tales countless of times, but he never would have thought to see such a creature like this himself. What lie beyond the edge of the rock, science had yet to explain. Only the fables of drunkards or those delirious with sun stroke knew of its existence.

"Merfolk," he breathed, swallowing audibly as his mind raced with questions.

The entire time the fish hadn't blinked once, its fathomless blue eyes locked on him anticipating an attack from his unsheathed blade. Its only movement came from two fins set on either side of a blond head. They swiveled and flicked at every sound.

Sherlock could easily deduce that they were ears of some fashion. He watched them move as the gulls cried out nearby, as the wind and waves shifted, and at the slightest whisper his clothes made as he stood there, prepared to lunge if provoked.

Minutes seemed to tick by as the two faced off, unsure if the other was friend or foe. They were at a stalemate, and it was clear that one of them was going to have to concede if they were to get anywhere.

Releasing an exasperated sigh Sherlock came to a decision. He would relinquish his blade, and if the creature tried anything he would shoot it with one of the two small flintlocks he kept hidden on his person. Gently he knelt down and set the sword down with a small _clank_ on the surface of the rock. Just as slowly he rose to his full height.

The creature lifted itself partially out of the water to watch the pirate disarm. The movement gave the captain an unobstructed view of a glistening broad flat chest, leading the man to believe that he had come across a merman rather than the fabled female of the species.

Plainly lifting his hands, Sherlock made sure that the creature could see he was unarmed. "I am not interested in harming you. I am merely here to acquire that which belongs to me and my men."

Wary that the human could still manage to do him harm the merman slid back into the water. He released a heavy sigh at the pirate's words, resting his damp forehead on the rock. "That's a relief."

Sherlock balked at the merman's words. He only spoke out of habit; he had not expected the creature to understand much less reply to his words. "You speak?" He silently berated himself as soon as the redundant question was out of his mouth. Sherlock hated repetition as much as he hated people stating the obvious, and here he was doing both.

Encountering this creature had clearly dulled his brain. Perhaps the merman had charmed him whilst they were in their stalemate. Many of the tales spoke of merfolk luring men into their clutches with songs or trickery.

He had heard no song, and the idea of magic was an abomination his scientific mind was not willing to indulge in. Sherlock thought it could be something based in the creature's biology. Pheromones could easily explain his laps in cognitive judgment at the moment. Then again he was talking to a mythological being.

"Yeah, I do." The merman chuckled, his laugh a light merry sound that was as warm as the sun beaten stone beneath the captain's feet. If he was aware of the captain's internal crisis he did not let on to it.

A broad smile split the merman's face, his eyes sparkling with mirth as he tilted his head sizing up the man before him. "Why, did you think that I couldn't," he teased.

A smirk tugged at one side of the pirate's lips. "Honestly, the way in which merfolk communicate hadn't occurred to me until just now." When he got no reply he set about his original task.

The sun was reaching its peak, and he was sure his crew did not fancy waiting longer than they had to for their reward. This unforeseen distraction was costing him precious time.

Keeping an eye on his captive audience he swiftly divested himself of the garments that were unsuitable for the rich salty waters of the Atlantic. His grey wide brimmed wool felt cavalier hat, and Chinese silk waist coat joined his spadroon in a pile of discarded clothing. He paused, considering the pistol belted to his hip. As a fire arm it would be useless once wet, but he could still utilize the weapon as a club if he had to defend himself.

Sherlock decided to take a gamble. He reached into the cuff of his boot plucking out the hidden Toby pistol, and with a flick of his wrist he tossed it on his clothes with a heavy _thump_. Soon to follow were the housing for the firearm itself, his supple leather boots. Sherlock hesitated, a hand poised over the buckle at his waist before he slowly started working the strap of leather lose. Removing his belt and holster he set them atop his other garments, his hand lingering upon the polished wood of his pistol.

As the pirate captain disrobed the creature silently kept its visual. His curious gaze never left the man's crouched figure as he lurked along the edge of the rocks.

' _Oh but you are a bold one,_ ' Sherlock mused as the merman swam within arm's reach. "Would it be too much of a bother if I joined you," he asked, nodding to indicate the clear aquamarine waters surrounding the rock.

The merman seemed to bristle at the request, his body language shifting from interest to one of cold stern regard. His ear fins flared in a display of agitation. "Why," he asked defensively, making no move to mask his apprehension.

Sherlock did not flinch or waiver at the merman's aggression. While he was in no mood to explain himself, he certainly was not going to get into waters with a rabid sea creature unless he was welcomed. Sherlock suspected it would be best to palliate the merman's fears, whatever they may be. Evenly he reasoned, "there is something that belongs to me under this rock. I am here to retrieve it."

A flash of enlightenment washed over the merman's face, and with a flick of his tail he disappeared, leaving Sherlock alone on the rock once more.

Nervously the captain scanned the water around him, his body gone ridged, poised in anticipation of an assault. With the creature above water, and in his line of sight, at least he could maneuver his body to defend himself in a foreseen attack. Now an assault could come from any direction, and that left him vulnerable.

Moments passed, and with every second that ticked by he felt more unease. There was a splash, and a flash of movement that compelled him to stiffen- instinctively tightening his grip on the butt of his gun. Sherlock forced his body to relax as the merman swam closer, a triumphant smile plastered on his sun kissed face.

Hefting something large out of the water the merman showed Sherlock his prize. A waterlogged rope-bound crate branded with the sigil of the East India Company on its side. Clumps of silt slid from the saturated wood and splattered onto the rock as the merman levied the crate onto the hard surface. Marveling at the creature's display of strength, Sherlock wondered just how strong he was to be able to hold up such a weight without support.

Shaking himself of his momentary assessment Sherlock instead focused on his job at hand. Reaching back for his blade he set about inspecting the contents of his haul.

Sherlock noticed a light smattering of scars that marred the merman's tan flesh as he moved closer to the crate. Now with most of the creature's upper body exposed and out of the water they were hard to miss. As Sherlock worked, he silently categorized the items that could have left such garish marks; the worst of which appeared to be left by a large lead shot, fired at a close range, to the left shoulder. Idly he wondered if the ball had passed clean through, and if so what did the exit wound look like?

He was keenly aware that the merman kept his distance as he used his sword to cut the ropes. From what he could see, he couldn't really blame the merman for his trepidation. The creature's earlier display of wariness making sense now that he could speculate the types of interactions the merman had with humans in the past.

Once the lid was pried off the crate the merman moved in close once more to see what the pirate had hidden beside the rock. He watched in rapt fascination as Sherlock inspected the goods.

Sherlock lugged out the boulders that were used to weigh the crate down, and shoved them off the side of the rock with a resounding splash. Pleased to find the bottles of various brews, he and his man had procured from merchant ships, intact he loosely tacked the lid back in place.

The merman inched closer, something shiny beneath the pirate’s shirt catching his eye. Without noticing he gradually leaned into Sherlock’s space, unable to take his eyes off the item that flashed with the sun’s light. "What's that?"

Sherlock followed his gaze to the gold chain encircling his neck. He tried not to draw attention to their proximity, worried he might frighten the creature into an unprovoked attack if he noticed how close he was to a human. He reached into the open collar of his thin blouse, and withdrew the charm. "It's a locket."

He stared, transfixed by the ornament dangling from the pirate’s fist. The back of the trinket shone just as brightly as the rope of metal it hung from. On the front of the oblong disk an ivory silhouette cameo of a woman lay on a crimson background. "What is it for?"

Sherlock fought back another half smile that threatened to tug at his lip. ' _Such a curious beast,_ ' he mused. On the other hand, if he were to reflect on that thought he was likely just as interested in the merman as the merman was in him, if not more so. He shrugged, explaining, "men usually have them as keepsakes to remember someone they left behind."

"Is there someone you left behind?"

Sherlock frowned, his features suddenly going stiff and serious. ' _Yes, and God willing the fat bastard will stay there._ '

"I wear it because I like it," he opted to say by way of an explanation. Of course he was not going to elaborate on how he had stolen the trinket off a young sailor while his men raided his ship.

Those fathomless blue eyes went from gazing at the locket in wonder to focusing on Sherlock’s face in agreement. "I like it too."

While he was never one to part with a piece of his treasure, Sherlock found his heart warming at the idea of gifting this bauble to the merman. Without a second thought he draped the chain around the merman’s neck. “It’s yours then…” Before the merman could utter a response he clutched the charm in his fist, as if by doing so he held the creature captive. “If you can give me a name,” he proposed, not yet relinquishing his hold on the chain.

He stiffened at once when the pirate set the chain around his neck, the metal tickling as it slithered against his throat. Suppressing a shiver, he licked his lips, tasting danger in the air at the pirate’s words. It was exhilarating, even though he knew he should have been afraid, should have been flailing, caught in the troughs of fight or flight. 

He began to sputter. “What do you mean? What my people are called?”

“What _you_ are called… Your “people,” what do they call _you_?”

The merman swallowed and cleared his throat giving a simple one worded answer. “John.”

It was such a simple name for such an extraordinary creature. Sherlock found himself fighting back a laugh at the plainness of it. He held his humour in check, his face remaining stoic as he slowly released the pendant from his grasp. “Very well, John, I bestow upon you a gift. Something to remember me by.”

In one fluid movement, he picked up the crate, and carried it over to his dorey. Once the cargo was secure, he turned to gather his personal items noting that the fish was still watching him in open fascination.

Sherlock felt a sense of regret slowing his movements. He wanted to know more about John and his people, he craved learning more. Unfortunately he had spent far too much time off board his ship already. The last thing he needed was Lestrade sending men out looking for him, and coming across John.

While he trusted his crew to do their job they weren’t the most upstanding of society. They were likely to do something stupid if they saw the merman.

Taking his ores in hand he nodded to the creature, whom was still watching him from beside the rock. “I bid thee farewell, John. Try to keep yourself, and my gift safe.” Without another word he dug the ores into the crystal line waters and pushed off from the craggy rocks, setting off smoothly.

“Wait!” With a few strokes of his tail, John was beside the longboat trying to keep up with the pace Sherlock had set. “Your name- I don’t even know your name.”

The pirate smiled, an inkling of an idea forming in his head. “Find me again and I might give it to you.” Sherlock winked, hoping to give the merman enough incentive for another meeting. He rowed away, leaving the stunned merman bobbing above the waters as he made his way back to his ship and crew.

**Author's Note:**

> The rocks where Sherlock finds John look like [this](http://letslivebythesea.tumblr.com/post/106375942005/)
> 
>  
> 
>   
> 


End file.
